


I Swallowed Hard, Like I Understood

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:57:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wipe it away. He’s coming...he’s coming... They couldn’t have forgotten you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Swallowed Hard, Like I Understood

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

It was that sensation of waiting outside with the other children for your parents to pick you up after school. You would sit in the playground jabbering away, playing pretend and scooping up the sand as if it was somehow golden doubloons on some deserted island. Grinning and waving as your friends left, excited to see them the next day until the minuets turn into an accumulated half hour. Anxiety begins to grip, eyes searching out through the fence for a familiar car... Heart picking up when you swear you see it, only to find it zooming by. The embarrassing situation placed unto you when a teacher sees you alone, asking if you needed to call your parents. You wave them off. “They’re coming. I know it. He’s coming to get me soon.” They frown, before promising to be back in five minuets and if you’re still there a phone call will be made. Toeing the sand, feeling a deep ache settle and the feeling of being abandoned...forgotten... So strong that it clogs up your throat and makes eyes water.

Wipe it away. He’s coming...he’s coming... They couldn’t have forgotten you.

It’s the sensation of waking up in pure excitement knowing that out of the three hundred sixty five days in a year, one of those days is yours. You own a day. It’s your day to be praised, loved, and spoiled absolutely rotten. Dashing to the kitchen, expecting your favorite, you find that single slice of toast and eggs. Those pancakes you were hoping for just don’t exist today. Doesn’t matter. What about the gifts? It’s going to come! That one toy! The one you’ve been eyeing longingly each and every time you’re dragged out to the mall. You can almost taste sweet success of receiving it! Finally! Yet the day remains quiet...normal. Parents move about the house, kissing you fondly on the forehead before asking you to behave this Saturday. Car doors slam shut. Car zooms off. That’s okay. There is still later on today. Perhaps dinner at your favorite restaurant! Perhaps a surprise when they come back! Yet the day remains quiet...normal. Parents move about the house from work, nagging at you to remember your manners as you stab your chicken sullenly. Kisses are given as they usher you to sleep, not having the heart nor the balls to inform them that they completely forgot your birthday. Sinking disappointment grips and body shakes in tearful trembles, rocking you to sleep.

Wipe it away. It’s going to come...it’s going to come... They couldn’t have forgotten your special day.

Fury fills the area, making the entire air thick with anger and hurt, kicking at the structure that keeps you so secured. You can scream and shout -- hurl insults and stones, but no one will truly hear. It’s four days before you sink into pure exhaustion, laying still against the wall of your cage, panting into the surprisingly cold air. You’re spent. Too tired to fight, to argue, and to hiss out cruel words. Instead you wish simply to go home and sleep on something far more comfortable than the cold floor. You would be more than happy to deal with the firm lecture, as long as everyone forgot it quickly and things can return to normal. So you wait...anxiously...looking for a door to open, a key to be given... Silence. It must be karma, you assure yourself. I must spend more time in here to fully learn my lesson, I suppose. You make excuses for them, like a girlfriend who will make excuses for her obviously ill-fitted boyfriend during the first two months. He means no harm, he’s a good guy. No...no... So you sit, tap your fingers, tighten your jaw... How long till someone takes you out? Were there written rules to this cage? This prison? Months slip on by and panic is welling in. Can’t sleep. Noises are created in your skull, and you swear you can hear someone unlocking that door. They finally remembered you. They are ready to take you home. No...no... Just in your head. Sobbing uselessly doesn’t make a key appear. Pulling your hair out until it is in ragged clumps doesn’t open a window. Rubbing your eyes raw doesn’t bring upon a friendly face.

Wipe it away. Your family is going to come... Your brothers are on their way now... They couldn’t have forgotten their sibling, their Morning Star.


End file.
